


i'll live, unfortunately

by bananaquit



Category: Gattaca (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eugene Lives, Jerome Eugene Morrow Lives, Jerome Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananaquit/pseuds/bananaquit
Summary: Vincent leaves Eugene with a parting gift—something to stay alive for. Gene isn't happy about it.





	i'll live, unfortunately

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song "love in the time of human papillomavirus" by ajj

Eugene had to admit, he hadn’t expected Vincent to get a _cat_.

Then again, there was a lot he hadn’t expected… the director’s death, Vincent and his sheer dedication to his goal, his own failure. Vincent should have had enough on his mind with the murder investigation and whatever he had going on with Irene, not to mention his imminent departure. Sure, Eugene had been dropping hints about his plans here and there, but he didn’t really believe Vincent would pick up on anything, not with so much going on.

He supposed some part of him wanted Vincent to notice, _wanted_ Vincent to stop him from crawling into the incinerator and flipping the switch. But if that _were_ the case, he would’ve preferred Vincent’s intervention to be intentional, deliberate. The one thing he wouldn’t admit was that he wanted some sign Vincent needed him alive because of who he was as a person and not because of what he provided for him.  

So yes, some part of him wanted a reason to stay alive, but not _this_.

Vincent had arrived at the apartment a few days before launch toting a kennel, smiling in a way that made Eugene bristle with defensive suspicion. Eugene tilted his head to try to get a look at what was inside the kennel as Vincent descended the spiral staircase.

“Hey,” Vincent said far too happily. “I got us something.” Once he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, Vincent set down the kennel on the floor with a smug smirk and opened the door. A black cat poked its head out, yellow eyes locking onto Eugene.

“Are you going to explain yourself?” Eugene finally managed, his surprise fading as anger surged forward to take its place. He wheeled aggressively towards Vincent, locking eyes with him.

“I adopted a cat.” Vincent replied nonchalantly.

And just like that, Eugene’s entire plan fell apart. With those words, Vincent had irreversibly bound him to the animal, taken away what little control Gene had left over his life. Now he didn’t even have a choice in his own death. Everything had been perfectly in place for Gene to disappear without any strings attached. He’d stored enough genetic samples to last Vincent the rest of his life and then some, but now Vincent was leaving him with a responsibility he couldn’t simply get rid of. If he went through with his plan, the cat would be left without a caretaker and starve to death. If he died, so would the cat. Eugene had no problem killing himself, but the thought of being responsible for killing something else made his stomach churn. He was trapped.

“You adopted a cat.” Gene echoed numbly.

“Look, things have been hell at work, okay? I thought I’d go to the shelter to take my mind off things. I was just going to look around, but then I saw this little guy.” He gestured down to the cat. “I was going to ask you, I swear.”

“No, you weren’t.” Eugene replied.

“You’re right, I wasn’t. But I’m not taking him back.”

The cat now began to emerge fully from the kennel, dragging itself by its front paws. Eugene’s mouth opened slightly as its back legs came into view. Its hind legs were completely immobile, limp and useless. They were simply dead weight attached to its body.

“So you thought I’d be completely fine with you suddenly getting a _special needs_ animal I _don’t want_ and then leaving me to care for it for a _year_?” Eugene snapped.

“He’s just like any other cat. The only extra thing you’ll have to do is express his bladder once a day.”

“You’re telling me you picked the one animal that can’t even piss by itself and you didn’t think I’d be even slightly bothered?” He meant to stop there, but his mouth kept moving. “What do you have to gain from this? It’s past the genes now, isn’t it? Do you think you can use me now, too?” More words threatened to rush forward, but Eugene held his tongue.

Now that Vincent didn’t need his DNA, he was being reduced to a _cat-sitter_. He was never meant to be more to Vincent than an object, a tool to be used. He didn’t know why he’d been under the impression Vincent saw him as anything other than a servant or machine. Eugene had been treated as something manufactured his whole life. Foolish of him to have believed someone thought he was human.

Vincent blinked, looking hurt by his words. “I knew you wouldn’t be happy,” he said softly. “I just didn’t want you to be alone.” He paused. “He reminded me of you.” he spoke quietly, looking downward.

Eugene didn’t know how he felt about that; there was anger, there was softness, there was hurt. He showed none of it. “No. It’s because you know I can’t do anything to stop you walking all over me.” Eugene whirled around to hide the tears burning in his eyes and wheeled up the ramp to his bedroom, disappearing from sight.

“Eugene…” Vincent called lamely after him. He gave a sigh and went to collect the food he’d bought on the way back from the trunk of the car.

 

* * *

 

That was how Eugene got here, sitting idly in his wheelchair and watching the cat from across the room, a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Vincent had left that morning. Eugene rolled his head back and blew smoke into the air, trying not to be bothered by the intent gaze of the cat.

“His” name was Max, but he was welcome to change it, Vincent had informed him before he left. The people at the shelter didn’t know how it broke its back, but they thought it was a car accident. Ironic. Vincent had showed him how to express its bladder, a thoroughly revolting task, and left him with supplies and instructions for the other aspects of the cat’s care. Vincent had already scheduled more food and litter to be delivered once a week for the duration of his absence and Gene had been instructed to contact Irene if he needed additional help.

Irene. Gene didn’t know her well, but it seemed he’d be forced to get to know her soon enough. Vincent informed him at the last possible moment that Irene would be coming over to “check on him” at least once a week and that he wouldn’t be happy if he heard Eugene was being difficult with her. He could still contact Vincent while he was away by calling a special number that he was not to give out to anyone under any circumstances and leaving a message. They couldn’t have a conversation in real-time because the time it would take their signals to travel back and forth was steadily increasing along with their distance from one another, but they could leave recorded audio messages for each other, like letters made of sound. Irene could keep in contact with Vincent the same way, so Vincent would know if Gene gave her a hard time.

Vincent. Eugene hadn’t bothered to show him all the samples he had stored away, since there was no need to lie and say that he was “traveling” anymore, but he had kept one aspect of his original plan the same: giving him the plain white card with the lock of hair enclosed. Gene couldn’t stay angry at him, no matter how hard he tried. He loved the bastard, even if his head was full of stars. He supposed he loved him _because_ his head was full of stars, not in spite of it.

There was something admirable in the determination and perseverance Vincent emanated, the way he never swerved on the path towards his dream. It was more intoxicating than all the liquor in the world. Some nights when they stayed up late Gene and would listen to Vince go on and on about the depth and wonder of the universe, he’d get drunk on the sound of Vincent’s voice, from the vast expanse of space and sky and stars he created with his words. Everything would melt away until they were in a galaxy of their very own.

Eugene couldn’t stand those moments. They were so peaceful, so calm, so still, and he was so hooked on them that it scared him. It wasn’t as if he’d never been addicted to anything before- he was practically an alcoholic and his lungs had to be fried from how much he smoked- but he’d never run out of wine and cigarettes. Vincent, on the other hand, was a finite resource. He was irreplaceable, but he had an inevitable expiration date. He was the only thing Gene had left to lose, and the thought terrified him.

A lot about Vincent terrified him. Gene was sure Vince could do anything if he set his mind to it, and that in itself was unnerving to him. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t get to him sometimes, though. Vincent wasn’t supposed to be better than him, but he was, and he hated him for that. He hated that he was jealous of an in-valid, hated that he wished he could be like him, hated the fact that Vincent was given imperfect genes and went far beyond what he should be capable of while Gene couldn’t even live up to his own manufactured DNA.   

Still, Gene would probably adore him no matter how much he made him suffer.

After all, it wasn’t really Vincent’s fault he had to stay alive. If Vincent _knew_ he was planning on killing himself, he would have just confronted him. Despite their best efforts, Vincent wasn’t a liar. He probably got the cat to keep the source of his identity from going stir-crazy and and reverting back to alcoholism - not because he _knew_ and definitely not because he _cared._ If Vince came back to find he’d relapsed, it’d be a hassle to get him clean and sober again.

Said cat hadn’t really done much in the few days it’d been in its new home. It had mostly just been dragging itself around and checking out the place, sniffing at various objects and remaining aloof. Gene looked down as the feline actively approached him for the first time by scooting across the floor towards his chair. It sniffed at the wheels, whiskers pointed forward and ears perked attentively, then glanced up at him before moving down to his shoes. Eugene set the bottle of vodka on the table behind him and propped his elbow on the armrest, resting his face in his hand as he regarded the creature he’d be stuck with for a year. This was going to be awful. Sometimes he wished he was more selfish. Maybe then he’d be able to do what was in his best interests and disappear.

“What, do you need your bladder expressed?” he asked the cat, tone full of bitterness. “You don’t have even have to do that yourself. I have to piss for _two_ .” The cat only stared at him in response. It lifted one front paw and placed it on his shoe, then spread out its toes, unsheathing its claws. “No. Don’t you dare even _think_ of using me as a scratching post.” Gene leaned down to gently push the cat off of him before the damn thing could leave a scratch on his dress shoes and wheeled himself across the room, safely away from it.

The cat followed. It didn’t appear to be bothered much by the way its paralyzed legs slid lamely across the hardwood floor. It promptly placed a paw on his shoes again, but when Gene went to bat it away this time, the thing had the nerve to _bite_ him. It wasn’t deep enough to draw blood, but was certainly painful. Eugene winced, yanked his hand back, and cursed the cat under his breath. Time to resort to other measures. He quickly wheeled over to the low cabinet that was against the wall near the spiral staircase, dug inside until he produced a bag of cat treats, then dangled them over its head. It craned its neck up to try to sniff it, swiping at the air with its paw and making an excited _brrr_ noise.

“You like these? Better than my shoes, now, isn’t it? I thought so.” Gene opened the bag and pulled out a single treat. “You want it so bad, go and fucking get it.” With that, he threw a treat across the room, sending the feline skittering across the floor after it. The cigarette immediately went back to his lips as he stared at the animal with undisguised malice. He had a feeling this was going to be a long, long year.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to @currymoose on tumblr for helping me with editing and feedback!


End file.
